


Blooming pains

by Coils



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Final Battle, Gen, Photoshop Flowey (Undertale), Spoilers - Undertale Neutral Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-11-12 13:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18012206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coils/pseuds/Coils
Summary: As Frisk confronts Flowey's monstrous final form, an unexpected turn of events might shift the fate of the Underworld forever.





	1. A sprout

Never-ending darkness. Further than any eye could see. A cold, jet-black mantle of unforgiving dusk shrouded every corner of the Underworld. Obscuring every crevice, engulfing every life, sinking every hope and every dream into oblivion, for the one who had brought this darkness truly wished to permanently plunge them all into oblivion. A sadistic, twisted, newly ascended deity had brought reality to its knees in the first steps of his plan towards world destruction. All living beings remained in limbo, alone, abandoned, prisoners of a world they could neither see nor touch, awaiting his judgement, like helpless puppets devoid of will and reason. Playthings for him to erase and rearrange in his leisure.

All except for the puny human fighting him.

Frisk panted, the strain of the damage received and frantic dodging alike having taken a harsh toll on his frail, young body. Before him, every uneven, chaotic, spine-tingling detail of Flowey’s hulking soul-powered body unnaturally pulsated and quivered amidst the dark void. Neither human nor monster. Neither plant nor machine. All boundless power, twisted by the thrill of wielding it for its enjoyment. And facing him, a solitary, tiny human, armed with nothing but a toy knife. The floral monstrosity’s distorted cackles roared, signalling his next barrage of movements. Still feeling the aftermath of their foe’s initial flame bombardment in their bones, Frisk swiftly began flinching sideways, away from the multiple quivering laser pointers on their chest. A deluge of piercing, barbed wire-like vines shot the human’s way, their panting, trembling chest barely able to breathe in any air before they leaped aside, the sharp plant appendages shredding the flank of their sweater into ribbons. Frisk groaned, their clothes brushing against the ground. They attempted to get up and continue their evasion, seeing the spear-like vines would not stop darting forth. They managed to desperately crawl away, but the relentless volley continued indifferently, their exhausted state certainly not doing his dodging any favours. This incessant assault was far harsher Frisk could have ever been ready for.  Eventually, not even their eyes were fast enough to keep up with the keen creepers, a horrifying realization that dawned on them as the blade-like shin of their tips blinded Frisk’s eyes. Nothing left to even do but cover their face.

Wrong call. The vines shot straight through their heart.

But Frisk’s wide-eyed, horrified expression didn’t linger long. As if offering a prayer, they shut their quivering pupils, and amidst a blinding yellow flash, the human’s brittle, wounded figure vanished. Retrieving his tentacles, Flowey’s screen displayed a scoff. It was not the first time he had seen this. But this didn’t make the floral deity feel cheated, or eluded. Far from it, it twisted his unstable visage into a nightmare-inducing, fang-overflowing simper.

Because unlike anything Frisk had faced before, he remembered it all.

And unlike every time before, when they came back, they were not greeted with a familiar place. Gone were the familiar, glowing words, and the familiar reminder of the friends he had made. Nothing but a familiar, bone-chilling cackle, echoing along the endless void.

 _“YOU IDIOT! Did you really think I was going to be satisfied… killing you only ONE time_?” Frisk’s throat dried, and their usually steadfast and impassive resolve wavered. Pulses of golden energy sparkled and blistered out of the ghoulish, almost head-like chest piece in Flowey’s body. They recognized the very same energy they had used to survive through the perils of the Underworld thus far. And even without it, the look on their foe’s face already spelled everything out.

He could see their de-termination coming.

And not only that, but this creature could somehow harness it, even more efficiently than them.

However, with how far Frisk had come, abandoning this world in the hands of this monstrosity was simply not an option. Not with all the friends this would leave behind, and the bright future they could be helped towards. True, they had never faced something like this before. But despite everything, their determination had never left them. It would have to be enough, just like it had so far. Clenching their fist, Frisk readied his toy knife, for once, truly prepared to use it. The floral demi god’s simper came with a screech, a swarm of enormous insects summoned, charging away at their target in a horrifying avalanche. Ignoring Flowey’s threats and taunts, the human charged forward, ready to resume their frantic dance with doom.

Filled with determination.

\--------------------

Despite the all-engulfing darkness, the world had not ended. Rather, it had been postponed. Suspended. This was the doing of its aspiring ruler, who had deemed most of existance irrelevant, currently only having eyes for the human he was fighting. After he had dealt with that pest, the destruction of the world might come, or not. Or perhaps it definitely would just to be rebuilt later, as with his powers, nothing was bound to last for longer than he wanted it to. Nothing was impossible to undo or retry in this playground of a world of his.

And among the many obscured things escaping his all-seeing gaze was a garden table. In it, a ruler had recently met his untimely demise. And it had been such a recent demise, the signs of his presence had not evaporated yet. His tea still hot. His flowers still freshly trimmed. The tears he had wept over his tortured, conflicted predicament still not dried. And along those tears, the dust of his demise lay scattered over a memento of his children he retrieved from their old room: a plush doll he had gifted to his beloved adoptive human child. A relic by virtue of his longevity alone, its value, forgotten to everyone but him; lost to time and oblivion, along the turbulent torrent of his contradictory life.

And it was no coincidence that puppet had been in his possession this day. News of the human’s coming had reached his ears. A human not unlike the one he raised as his own blood, long ago. Grasping the fated keepsake rekindled a flood of memories. Regrets. Failures. Resolution. Hope. Heartbreak. After all that had passed, the barrier’s shattering was within his grasp, and to say he was anxious did not make his feelings justice. Short of describing the remorseful, distressing whirlwind of sorrow these reports had bred inside him. The heavy burden of his responsibilities clashed with the regret of losing his loved ones and the further spilling of further blood in his hands. Would this torturous weight be lifted off his shoulders once the last sacrifice had been made and his people were set free? What would he encounter once they reclaimed their much-deserved freedom? Would the humans seek further conflict against him, and by extension his subjects? This never-ending dilemma seemed impossible to escape. And as a way out, poor king Asgore was prepared for failure. He almost hoped it, in fact. He wanted someone to stop this madness for him. Despite his power and influence, despite the hope and dreams he filled the hearts of his loved and devout ones with, he felt completely powerless before fate. Scared. Unprepared for the responsibility, no matter how likely his victory seemed. It felt undeserved.

Yet defeated he was. And against all his assumptions, where he relinquished MERCY, he found it in spades. With more than enough compassion for both, the human tended their hand, offering peace to his wounded soul and body alike. What did this all mean? What was he to do? Should he reciprocate? Could humans and monster truly understand each other after all?

The shower of bullets cutting his life short did not give him time to answer.

Little more than a forlorn memory, King Asgore’s regrets and sorrow clung to his inert dust. Golden flashes sporadically illuminated he scene of his final resting place, the confrontation between the human and the soulless flower closer than it seemed. Despite the twisted subterranean corridors separating them, the throne room and the barrier were right next to each other, explaining the constant rumbling and thundering. The royal hall shook with every missed blow, every detonated missile, every flail-like vine embedded in the ground; every blurry, deafening cackle blasted by Flowey. Flickering wildly, the teacup spilled its contents on the table, fragrant vapour wafting worth, vanishing in the eternal darkness.

Meanwhile, Frisk’s challenge had grown daunting beyond their worst fears and nightmares. Relentless, erratic and interchanging barrages of attacks. Intertwining shifts of time and space. Keen and hurtful taunting, armed with awareness of the inner workings of their determination unlike anything they had ever seen before. With all the nasty surprises the twisted bloom had in store for them, Frisk had grown desperate. And out of that desperation, they called upon the human souls inside the cacophonous, unstable abomination. His strength had been renewed with each one he had managed to reach, his energy recovered, his will, strengthened. Frisk’s faith in the goodness inside human and monster souls alike blossomed, a shining light in this unwavering penumbra.

And more importantly, it painted a clear goal for them to achieve.

The six glowing souls shared enveloped their frail body, which walked a tight rope between termination and soft, refreshing glimpses of hope. They understood what had to be done. Crazed and twisted by all this power, this monster was deaf to words, unfeeling to kindness, oblivious to reasoning. Frisk’s ACTs were in vain. They could not even tend their hand in MERCY. And save for their weapons, no ITEM had escaped Flowey’s vanishing influence. So before it was too late, before their determination somehow abandoned Frisk, they knew what had to be done.

For the first time, he had to FIGHT for good.

Taking a deep breath amidst a flurry of grotesque, spiky pods sporting eerie jaws, Frisk charged, blade forward. The jamming of his knife between Flowey’s chest engulfed the world in a white flash. Something between a screech and a cackle escaped the mad monstrosity’s mouth.

 _“Yes! Yes! I knew you had it in you! Give me another one! I know that’s what you want! Kill or be killed, idiot! Do or die!”_ His mad laughter kept echoing as he summoned several of his laser pointers, telegraphing the spiky tentacles soon to skewer Frisk if they didn’t move. They desperately looked around, as the knife had been stuck to the disturbing jaw-like structure, struggling to pluck it out with even the push of their legs. With a desperate groan, Frisk broke free, and a yellow burst of light shot out of the wound towards infinity. Pure determination escaping the former Extraction machine, which had allowed Flowey to siphon and refine the near infinite amount of the reality-altering energy.

And as their battle raged on, this stray, forgotten beam continued its trajectory, piercing the blackened walls, making its way through the inert air. The seemingly endless energy, often of inexplicable nature and dire consequences shot straight towards the throne room.

And in a blinding golden flash, King Asgore’s tea table was blasted away.

Most of its contents scattered around, pathetically clanking against the overgrown flower beds. Nothing among them could harness this power, mere toys to its pull and force. However, something in the sad scene had reacted to the determination’s life-manipulating properties. A ball of yellow magic hovered above the toppled table, petals fluttering and waving before its aura. Like a microscopic galaxy among the cold, unforgiving dark of the blackened world, swelling with myriads of glittering dots gathering at its epicentre, its light illuminating a longer portion of the landscape with each passing moment. A vaguely humanoid, compact figure fidgeted and writhed about in its core.

And once the light vanished and the plush doll fell to the ground, King’s Asgore’s regrets and pain were brought back into this wretched, desolated world.

\--------------------

 _“No… NO!!! This can’t be HAPPENING!!!”_ Wailed Flowey’s distorted timbre. Frisk backed away, pulling the knife out of the deformed, butchered screen, tattered with blade marks from top to bottom. They huffed and puffed, sickened they had to resort to violence, but nonetheless, relieved it was finally over. _“You… YOU…”_ Pitifully moaned the nightmarish flower. Its boastful, smug voice was truly fading, nothing but a meek, resigned coo in place of its imposing sound. Still, Frisk remained vigilant, especially after having received so many nasty surprises from this treacherous fiend.

 _“You IDIOT.”_ Crowed Flowey, his wounds vanishing in an irritatingly confident simper.

Frisk’s knife dropped to the ground, then their knees followed suit. This could not be happening. It was just like them. He could come back from anything. Were they going to fight for all eternity? Was there a way to put an end to this madness? The human child shuddered and held back their tears, a split second before noticing Flowey’s vines, ready to shoot straight through their torso. Shoulders clenched and eyes closed, they braced themselves for the worst.

But when the pain didn’t arrive like before and they decided to open then, something had caused the vines to falter, wobbling aside like floppy stems fluttering in the wind. A familiar figure hovered in front of Flowey’s display, its regal cape flapping triumphantly. The most vulnerable he had ever looked yet, Flowey’s unblinking eyes hung wide open, mouth curved in a disbelief-filled grimace.

Asgore’s soulless phantom spread its arms. His emotionless gaze stared down Flowey, an equally emotionless voice calling out to him.

 _“I never meant for this to happen. I am sorry. Please forgive me.”_ His lips did not move, yet his words echoed through the void. Despite looking as flabbergasted as Flowey was, Frisk instinctively crawled behind the floating spectre, no time to even wonder how it had risen from its grave. They were sick of fighting. Sick of pain. They thought maybe this was the only way out. And much like his people, Frisk really believed in King Asgore. Their hopes were taken down a notch as they jumped and covered their ears, Flowey’s cackle thundering over the dying echo.

 _“Well, howdy! Congratulations, you old fool… You were brought back too. Peachy! So, tell me…”_ His mouth twisted in a blood-curling, gaping grin. _“How does it feel to wake up like this? Nice and warm enough for you?!”_   He continued his maniacal wailing, all the attention of his battle-ready appendages shifting towards the monarch’s apparition. Asgore stoically shook his head, causing Flowey to raise one of his eyebrows.

 _“I see how wrong I was now. This… this is no way to use determination. Please… please let us put an end to this. Let us go back. Let us try to go back to how we were. All of us. Back…”_ His grave, haunting monotone reverberated along the obscured hallways, further dissenting with the desperation of his words. Flowey’s pointy tongue slithered out of his gritted fangs.

 _“Huh? Going back?! Well, tough luck, I’m not going anywhere! And you can’t even compete with me anymore, you spineless IDIOT! The souls are no longer yours. They’re MINE! And you’re going to be…”_ Following a deafening sonic boom of static, the demented flower’s screen displayed a rusty mechanical skull with half of its teeth missing. Out of it, and into reality, vines began erupting. _“COLD, ABANDONED AND ALONE FOR A LONG TIME! DIE! DIE!!!”_ Upon hearing the scream’s distorted tone, Frisk covered their ears and curled up. The green tentacles shot forward, shattering Flowey’s crystal screen and impaling Asgore’s floating image in multiple spots, completely covering him with holes. The vines pulled in several directions, as if trying to tear Asgore apart. Besides a weak, almost imperceptible gasp, he reacted no further. With a deep, mellow snicker, the skull’s jaw dislodged itself, falling to the ground with a metallic thud. In its place, a box-shaped missile-launcher protruded out. _“Not enough! Suffer more! DIE MORE_!” Frisk hurriedly ran as far away in the opposite direction as they could, as a barrage of missiles shot out the weapon, targeting Asgore from every angle. The gloomy chamber trembled in the mighty explosion, leaving Frisk face-down against the ground, trembling like a mouse. Flowey’s torso wobbled up and down, a mechanical, glitchy gasp wheezing out. Among a cacophony of reversed static screeches, the boney face he adopted turned back to his old flower visage; and the glass display was carelessly reformed in the wrong position, seemingly out of thin air. Rather than seething with fury, Flowey appeared concerned, if slightly jealous. “ _And why… why do you get to keep that form? HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?!”_  Hearing the voice of the soulless monarch coming directly from his shoulder made him gasp, eyes shaken with genuine concern. This one wasn’t like the human.

 _“No more. Let us put an end to this. I beg of you. It was a long time ago… but try to remember… please remember…”_ Asgore knelled, its pleading eyes attempting to stare the floral abomination.

His visage failed to communicate any emotions beyond the complete emptiness of a mannequin.

Flowey gritted his teeth and vomited a distorted roar, his displayed expression morphing into a hellish grimace, glitch-like formations deforming it in painful-looking directions. He snatched Asgore with a dismissive shove, holding him between his monstrous, cactus-like appendages. The crazed plant demigod shook and smothered the monster sovereign, who offered no more resistance than a lifeless doll would have. Flowey’s eyes eerily deformed into uneven spirals.

 _“You useless, limp-wristed king… how STUPID can you be?! IT’S A LITTLE LATE TO GAIN SOME HUMILITY TO GO WITH YOUR COWARDICE!! IT’S A LITTLE LATE TO WANT TO BE A FATHER!! LOOK AT US!! WE’RE NOT WHAT WE USED TO-”_ The flailing stopped as Asgore’s paws clutched around Flowey’s appendages. Like a discarded mannequin, his lifeless, limp neck pitifully stared downwards, hiding his impassive stare.

 _“Wrong. We never ‘were’ anything. We hold remnants of their memories, but they are dead, never to return. We are something different. And even if we were them, if this hadn’t happened, with all the atrocities we committed along the way, we’d be as empty and cold. But you can still turn this around. I beg of you. Do not become something you’ll regret. It doesn’t have to be like this. Remember. Cling to it. I know he still lives within you…”F_ eeling Asgore’s phantom tremble in his claws Flowey hesitated. _“…Do not waste your wisdom and talents like this. I implore you… Cling to how you were… cling…”_ Flowey’s face began adopting a peculiar shape. The shape of a young monster, and one quite similar to the king at that. The absence of horns and his wide open mouth and eyes was all that differentiated him from Asgore’s lifeless husk of a mask, as did his age. They could have been father and son. Yet he did not seem to notice at all.

 _“Do you have any idea how long ago I got SICK and TIRED of being nice? You MORON!!!”_ The young boss monster face’s mouth distorted uncomfortably wide as it snickered. _“I don’t think you understand what you’re in for. Not even I can put you out of your misery now! I’d love to see you deliver a speech like this after you’ve been on your own for as long as I was!”_ The blurry displayed face tore itself open as he roared with laughter so intense, the floor quaked.

The sound of Flowey’s demented cackling made Frisk come back to their senses. Their first instinct was to cling to their chest, pressing against it to check for holes. They sighed in relief, their fingers not slipping even once across their torso. However, something else called to their attention, even making them ignore the hollow beings’ confrontation. Catching a glimpse of a multi-coloured light called, they glanced in its direction.

The human souls waltzed around a slightly familiar plushie doll, which stood on its own.

The fidgeting human stood on their knees, letting the warm light the souls emanated bathe them. Compelled to tend their hands to the strange ritual, they stood up and open their ears and eyes wide. They were speaking to Frisk. Reaching to their own soul.

They had a plan.

Asgore’s projection’s glare was glued to Flowey, who flinched back, as if disturbed by the sad phantom, despite the enormous gap in power between them.

 _“But my child… I won’t remain in this state long enough for the emptiness to claim my conscience. There is something I need to do.”_ Flowey raised an eyebrow. _“I ought to SAVE you from this fate. You see, you were wrong… I can put myself out of my misery just fine. And I’m going to put this determination to the best use I’ve come up with, no matter what happens to this wretched shell... And I swear I’ll do my best to fix the mistakes of my previous life that can still be helped…”_ Any remainder of aggression and enthusiasm disappeared from the floral horror’s visage. He could not be serious. Who would throw all of this away? He just did not understand.

 _“What are you talking about? You could do everything you ever wanted! You could fix your mistakes if you weren’t satisfied, try to fix them again and again until you made everything perfect! You can create perfection! Look at me! Look at what you could accomplish! Don’t be an IDIOT!”_ He choked upon seeing Asgore’s forlorn eyes timidly anchor themselves to him in a pitiful gaze. The caprine ruler shook his head slowly.

 _“Looking at you is what made me the most determined to see this through… I still hold some regrets for your sake, but I’ve had some time of my own to think about it already. And with your reaction… for once, I am completely convinced this is for the best.”_ Asgore’s sigh almost sounded like a snicker. Was that the lack of soul getting to him? The grotesque plant being sulked downwards in a horrified, confused grimace, realizing his determination wasn’t working. He screeched, leaning into his captive, as enormous as he was. He stabbed him with his spikes and shook him up and down. Asgore barely groaned in protest.

 _“Y-you jumped into another SAVE to hatch this without me noticing?!  No! I won’t let you! Stop this! I’ll hurt you! I’ll put you in more pain than you could ever imagine in all the lives you’ll ever live! Stop what you’re doing right now or I’ll-!”_ Even despite his disgusting, twisted semblance, Flowey cooed like a child as the ethereal image of Asgore vanished in a flurry of golden petals. He drove his claws apart, staring at the gap between them. Nothing of the decoy remained but some petals, skewered to his thorns.

He then noticed the animated plush doll, absorbing the six souls into his chest.

Right behind it loomed Frisk, steadily holding his knife, the incessant weeping .

 _“I am not doing anything. He is going to do it for me.”_ The doll trembled. The energy that was about to be liberated was going to unquestionably end his existence. For good. Sinking into that despair-filled pit for the second time filled his soulless husk with dread. But after seeing what lingering in it had done to the mind of his son after so many years, he preferred it this way. Flowey’s rage-filled screech thundered above existence itself as he shot every missile, extended every vine, and conjured every foul enchantment at his disposal. But even he knew it was too late. They were too far, even for him. From the slimy crevasses of the mutated body, Asriel’s face stared misty-eyed at what used to be his favourite doll, and at a very familiar human, holding a very familiar knife, and bearing a very familiar necklace. He knew those memories were not really his. Yet he still felt terrified at the thought of going through death again. And despite all the power he had gained, despite how numb he thought he had grown to such emotions, despite how truly he resented losing all he had gained, at that moment all he wanted was to go back. To SAVE himself a little further back, and instead say or do something different, so his family hadn’t had had to go through all this suffering. A fleeting, regretful stab of regret, which his soulless mind rationalized as self-preservation. But there was not much else he could do with how things were. Instead, after taking a good look at how the doll held his arms in the air, he braced itself for impact, closing his eyes and resigning himself to his fate. Their fates.

Their tears had dried long ago, but the soulless beings were trying their hardest to cry.

Frisk’s shaky blade stabbed the chest of the old doll, simultaneously piercing the six souls. They felt their determination course through their body, into their weapon. Asgore’s too. The leftover of Flowey’s as well. And the enormous amount of sorrow the human spirits still contained. Determined to put an end to the suffering of these tortured souls. Determined to see the plan of the souls and the king through the end, obeying their experience over his naiveté. Determined to save the world. But despite their renewed resolve, Frisk was sobbing in a way, only a child such as him would have been capable of. They were facing how cruel this world could truly be. This responsibility, this power, to end so many things at once, things that could have been saved were not for some things going the way they did… it felt terrifying. And wrong. But there really was no other way.  Just as the enormous deluge of energy was released forth, Frisk heard Asgore’s voice.

 _“Thank you, my boy… And please, do not resent my fate. This is more than I deserve after all the sins and failures I’ve committed. I was too blind to save my children. Too reckless to save my people. Too cowardly to make my wife happy… and these poor six humans… but I’m glad I was at least able to help you. Live on. Prove the fears on the heart of every monster wrong.”_ Frisk’s desperate sobbing was engulfed by the world-ending blast of concentrated determination that shot forth out of the disintegrating doll. Like a mere light show, the rainbow-colored beam made all of Flowey’s offenses vanish. His body was swiftly inundated in a multi-coloured storm. Soaking every ounce of the energy, bits and pieces of his over-decorated body fell apart, cracks and holes tearing up everywhere.

His inside out glass seemed to be absorbing most of the shock, as the energy going through it was reflected in the crystal, distilled in a white, intense beam. It bolted forward with a piercing screech, leaving a heart-shaped imprint in the Barrier. Seeing the foundation of such a powerful magical barrier crack as if it were regular glass was proof of the enchanted burst’s sheer power.

Holding onto the knife’s hilt for dear life, Frisk felt the whole Underground tremble through his misty eyes and feeble body, as they witnessed Flowey’s body crumble before them Too tired and scared to keep them open, he decided to shut them to avert them from the ghastly sight. However, their tears kept dousing forth. They had failed. Failed to save them both. Reduced to a faceless executioner. Now they understood the guilt Asgore felt. Would they ever be able to get over it?

Frisk passed out once the flash of light grew intense enough to whiten the world through their shut eyes.

Pain. Greater than any he had ever felt in the end of any of his countless resets. Excruciating. Nothing else. Being torn to pieces  s all Flowey felt. And there was nothing he could do about it. No tricks or weapons. No SAVING. No going back. No friends or family to help him. No hitpoints.

Dying. For good.

Yet, perhaps thanks to the remainders of his noble father’s consciousness blasting through him, he felt as if he had brought this upon himself. He felt wronged his whole existence as a flower. Robbed. Brought back against his will. But eventually, nothing forced him to what he did. It had been his decision. However, well beyond regrets, and truly unable to go back, all he could cling to were his distant memories of Asriel’s happy childhood. In his feverish destruction, he even felt as if Asgore’s words were resonating in his head.

_“Forgive me one last delusion but… farewell, my son. No matter what you and your sibling were, I loved you both till the bitter end.”_

Flowey’s crystal screen melted into a downpour of fuming red-hot acid, as the soulless flower truly lamented things for going this way.

The DT Extraction machine exploded, letting the concentrated beam die out, its purpose fulfilled.

\--------------------

Frisk gasped for air as their eyes opened. They promptly closed, blinded by the natural light they had not been reached with in what felt like forever.

The darkness had ended. The world was back to normal.

Feeling their skin crawl with tiny coarse slivers, they shook their shoulders and brushed their clothes of withered thorn and rusty metal fragments. Scouting around, Frisk noticed the wounded barrier, its flickering, fading glow illuminating Flowey’s corpse. They came to the realization a door had shut itself behind him as soon as he had stepped into the Barrier room, and now the King was gone, he had no idea how to open it. Nothing to do but look around and wait. Huffing from the effort and mild pain, They carefully balanced themselves on their aching legs to stand up. Afraid of overworking their exhausted human body, they timidly edged closer to the remains of their former “best friend”. The thought that monstrosity had once been a sentient, thinking being remained hard to come to terms with. They peered into the ruined mess of hardened molten chemicals and torn metal spikes that was the screen. With a sigh, they caressed their fast-beating heart with their trembling hands. Frisk didn’t reach for his SAVE but they could simply feel its absence.

Their determination was gone. Spent in the last assault. Probably for the best, too.

Frisk grasped the edge of Flowey’s square “head”, gritting their teeth and immediately retrieving it. It was still boiling hot! Waving their palm around, they settled for trying to veer closer to discern what was at its middle, eyes open as wide as they could.

Suddenly, a thorny fist burst out of the obliterated screen, steaming glass fragments flying away.

Frisk flinched and stumbled on their back, shuffling backwards along the ground. Several of the flying bites grazed them, barely missing their target. It could not be. How did he survive something that had damaged even the barrier? After all it had taken to get there, all that had been sacrificed… This was not happening.

Out of the skeletal metallic husk emerged a bizarre creature. Larger than Flowey, but as lithe and petite as a child. Its thorn and leaf-like skin of vivid green and yellow colours, splattered in blood red thorns. Its body the vivid image of something Frisk had seen in a picture somewhere. Its visage, that of a goat-like creature, not unlike Asgore, twisted by a manic, rather familiar grin. It noticed Frisk, appendages waddling forward in an uncanny manner, as if the thing was constantly rearranging itself just to advance.

_“Howdy!”_

 

**CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2**


	2. A Blossom

Very few places of the Underworld were fortunate enough to be bathed by the sunlight its inhabitants so craved. Only particularly strong sunrays were potent enough to survive the Barrier’s distorting, isolating refraction. And much like the dimly lit exit of a jet dark tunnel, the chamber of the now desecrated Barrier was seeing the first non-magical glow it had received in well over a century. The eerie, otherworldly glow of the magical barricade’s radiance had been replaced by a darker, yet, less disorienting penumbra. Bathed by natural light seeping through its cracks, an unexpected re-encounter was taking place. The brave human child and the soulless flower, taking on a new bipedal form. Stripped of their determination and most of their powers, this dim glow was all they had to guide themselves in the dusk. One expected to have died. The other expected to have taken a life.

And despite evidence to the contrary, both of them were right.

Unbeknownst to them, from the tallest corner of the Barrier room’s ceiling, a camera’s lens scoped and documented their confrontation, whirring along their every move.

Their curiosity was not powerful enough a force to tear down the invisible wall uncertainty and doubt had built between them. None of them dared take a step towards the other, or inquire ion their condition, only their vigilant stares remained fixated on each other.

Flowey’s current predicament, or what he had become was too flabbergasting for them both. He took stealthy glances at the fur-like shrub that covered his entire body, letting his thorn-like fingers slip through the red spikes that protruded out of him. A meek, almost disinterested combing motion from his claws uncovered white flower buds and floppy vines out of the leafy green wig that coated him whole. And like the threads of a sweater unravelling itself, most of the stray vines he dug up dangled in the air, twitching like worm-like appendages. The rubies he had for eyes twisted inquisitively as he caressed the tangle of tentacle-like roots that comprised his chest, the sharp, crimson nails on his hands and feet twitching along. A mystified, if somewhat curious and relieve grimace etched itself on his face as he explored his own body.

Seizing this distraction, Frisk slowly took a step back, but even before his shoe hit the ground, the goat-shaped floral creature’s gaze froze him in place. He raised his fist towards the human, aggressively taunting and glaring him.

 _“Hey! I said ‘Howdy’, idiot! Where are your manners?”_ Not unlike he was used to, a blast of seed-like pellets shot out of his arm. Frisk flinched off their trajectory, some flocks of his hair shaved off by the harmful seeds. Like a police agent threatening a felon, Flowey followed the human with his arm, cackling in sadistic delight. “ _Hmmm… doesn’t pack as much punch as it used to. I must be back to LV 1. How about this… You! Dance some more for me!”_ The coral-like quills on his fists wriggled and extended as he slammed his arms into the ground. Frisk caught wind of this telegraph and didn’t waste any time before dashing forward. The barrage of pointy vines that erupted off the ground remained behind their heels during their short sprint. As they noticed the flowery spears winding down and slowly coming to a halt, the human glanced back. They noticed the spears shrunk in height as they went on, the earlier ones quite taller than him, whereas the latest barely came to their ankles. The floral creature unstuck its thick, cactus-like arms off the ground, panting. _“I see… can’t just abuse those now. Well, no matter. I’ll place my shots…”_ He lifted his mitts, the vines inside bulging as they prepared another seed deluge.

He appeared quite more winded than Frisk after fleeing from his attack, who didn’t look pristine to begin with, his exhausted body still full of bruises and cuts. This gave the human an idea. Their enemy was tired. As little as it appeared, this was a chance for them to get him to stop fighting. They told him to surrender. That there was no reason for them to fight anymore, nothing at stake. Their hopeful diatribe was met with nothing but a scoff.

 _“Oh, spare me… I do have something to fight for. If I find the scientist who replicated the DT EX Machine, I can put some back into my body and start this whole game again! True, I’m weak right now… but all I’ll need to get better is some EXP! And there’s a juicy piece of it right before my very eyes… a wonderful first course!”_ Flowey’s signature cackle echoed across the void room. The hopeless human stumbled back, landing atop one of the lifeless, dry branches of Flowey’s former monstrous body.

Frisk clenched their fists. Unable to muster any response beyond a disappointed glare, they struggled not to cry. He had learned nothing. It was useless to try and reach to someone like that. Some evils were just unreachable, no matter what. Worse of all, their determination was gone. They could die. This thing could kill them. They would be gone, never to return. And it would hurt. That was the only part determination could never do away with.

But if they failed to stop him, a lot more people were going to feel that pain.

Yet rather than sobbing, like Flowey expected, the determined human shot him a tenacious glare. With a defiant step forward, they reached into the trunk-like wilted appendage, plucking one of its branches off with a dry crack.

Frisk feistily wielded the stick in a courageous stand. Flowey stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes, imitating their pose as he jeered.

 _“Back to square one it is! Well, except you’re even further back than where you started!”_ Flowey’s eye glinted as he raised his hands in the air, a volley of bullets erupting from beneath Frisk’s feet, knocking one of his shoes away. The human instinctively strafed back, realizing they were surrounded by the hovering pellets. Flowey’s seed pattern wrangled around him like a bear trap. Nowhere to run. His pointy fangs glistened as he grinned. _“And I’m about to send you even further back… for good this time. DIE.”_ Frisk braced themselves.

Before any of them could react, the door in the other end of the room was sent flying by a deafening explosion. Out of it dashed a swift, tall figure, dauntlessly striding towards the pair, tunic fluttering in the air. Bringing one of its paws forward, the bold visitor shot a concentrated flame burst, aiming straight for the treacherous bloom, striking bull’s-eye on his chest.

Flowey’s eyes bulged out of his sockets as the sudden blast sent him flying a great deal back, his extremities unravelling in flopping, incinerating vines. The place he landed was engulfed with a silent, anti-climatic dust cloud.

Frisk fell on his knees, pellets vanishing before them. Their cheeks trembled before the soft, warm touch of the maternal interloper.

_“What a miserable creature, torturing such a poor, innocent child…”_

After several harrowing experiences in a row, the shaken human dropped the stick, clinging for Toriel’s welcoming lap, sinking their hands into her tunic. The sight of Toriel’s warm, sincere smile made the human’s eyes fog down with tears. The motherly boss monster’s paw caressed their hair, muffled sobs and hiccups dampened by her lap. Now that her face was hidden from Frisk’s eyes, she allowed herself to show some of the sadness she needed to convey.

She had seen everything.

However, for Frisk’s sake, she wiped away the single teardrop coursing down her cheeks. She needed to appear strong and reliable for him. Her grieving would have to wait. Toriel’s fingers drew a line on the jolted human’s forehead, moving aside their stray fringes to uncover their eyes. She did her best to brush as many of the tears their eyes were soaked with.

 _“There, there, my child… you have been most valiant… But it is over now. You are safe.”_ She opened her arms for a hug, but jolted along with Frisk at the thundering clatter that suddenly roared. Amidst a myriad wobbling vines, Flowey erupted out of his landing place, slowly weaving himself whole again. Before they even turned their heads his direction, the human and goat tiptoed back, struggling to get a hold of the ground beneath them.

 _“Don’t bet on that, old lady.”_ Panted the uncanny creature.

Toriel’s gentle visage twisted into a wide-eyed grimace. Frisk did not dare look, instead pressing their head against Toriel’s tunic. Still shaken and unnerved, she took a step forward, standing between the two.

A mess of quivering, half-charred green tentacles flailed around before her horrified gaze. Amidst the mess, her son’s figure, gritting his teeth in excruciating-looking pain, clawing away at his charred chest. She could make out her son’s factions in this monster so clearly, and witnessing a red skull-like bark beneath his half-molten face sunk her heart and will to the ground.

 She knew it was not him. She had been warned. Her son was long gone, so even if someone wore his voice, memories or even face, she had psyched herself up to mercilessly repel whatever was threatening the human. That was her mission.

But she hadn’t prepared to find herself face to face with the picture of the very same agony that robbed her of Asriel all those years ago.

 She watched in regret-filled sorrow as the scorched vines of Flowey’s chest burst away with a dry crunch, crumbling to airborne dust and sand-like clusters that disintegrated on the ground. He groaned and wheezed, surveying his own gaping torso. In the middle of the decimated ribcage-like vine formation, a glittering, heart-like core pulsated. Noticing Toriel’s trembling, Frisk’s head turned their opponent’s direction, their eyes reflecting its iridescent glow. It had the same colors the magical blast that ended Asgore’s life and wound the barrier. Was that its imprint?

With a plain grunt devoid of his usual manic glee, Flowey’s prickly arm expanded at a dazzling speed, walloping the maternal goat monster squarely between her shoulder and cheek. Frisk recovered his footing from the tumble as fast as their legs allowed him, then swiftly rushed to Toriel’s aid. The dusty gashes that had been torn in her upper neck and head sent chills down their spine. The human shielded her trembling torso, fearing a second attack. However, the joyless flower child didn’t seem in a rush to strike again. Seething through his fangs, the wound on his chest  appeared to take all of his concentration. A single knee on the ground, he seemed to have trouble even keeping his eyes open.

 _“Your fault for wasting your cheap shot, hag. It was your only chance at defeating me. Honestly? Can’t even be bothered with you. Killed you LV 1 plenty of times. When I get the human’s soul again…”_ The visceral, gut-wrenching spasms that interrupted his speech pulsated all the way from his gut to his maw, causing him to vomit a green, sap-like substance. His body busily regrew and rearranged itself over the fiery magic attack’s hole, vines weaving his chest anew. _“…I’ll be…I’ll be on my way to the top of this world again! So stay down and… let me finish you both!”_ He wheezed, sluggishly raising his mitts. A pellet attack slowly erupted forth, emerald coloured sweat pouring out of his forehead.

Frisk’s remaining shoe clacked along the ground as they desperately dashed in front of Flowey’s line of fire. They brandished their new stick, hesitant gaze embedded on the ground, shoulders trembling along. The floral terror gasped a breathless, if still quite arrogant sigh.

 _“Oh, drop dead and vanish already!”_ His quivering claws seemed ready to drop limp any second. As Toriel’s torso rose into his view, he noticed the wound on her face. He hesitated. The devoted mother coiled her arm around Frisk’s waist, bringing him towards her. Her paw lit aflame, readying her fire magic. The dust seeping from the gashes and bruises on her forehead didn’t stop her from smiling.

 _“Do not… do not worry about me, my child. Run away. Find help. They will know what to do. Go!”_ Frisk impotently wavered. Of course they weren’t going to abandon her. They shook their head in disobedience, hugging her arm.

Flowey’s focus all but vanished as he witnessed the scene. His pellets hovered in irregular heights, as if ready to drop to the ground. His crimson eyes ripe with green and yellow vein-like stripes, a sorrowful shiver overcame his still aching chest. He held his palms in front of his face, the sight of his dust-covered spikes making the knot on his stomach grow. That scar on Toriel’s face was of his doing, and for some reason he could not explain, this realization shocked him into a stupor. Instinctively reaching for his long gone SAVE to undo his wicked action sunk him further into his guilt-filled daze.

There was nothing he could do about it now.  He had to live with what he had done forever.

Amidst panting, he shook his head. Why care about it at all? Why hesitate? Why now of all times? He had killed them both so many times, he had lost count. This was necessary. He had to go along with his plan. He had been to hell and back several times. Compared to that, this was the easiest job he had ever done, even at such a low LV. Free EXP and a free human Soul. And there was no catch. It was all there right in front of him, his for the taking.

But every time he tried to command his pellets forth, his mitts dropped like dead weights. His head swirled in a dazzled trance. His chest burnt even hotter than the fire it had just tasted. And every time he dared look forward to his targets, he saw things that he knew couldn’t be there. He saw the sunlight-lit flowerbed near his home. His sibling, clinging to her mother as she read. Not a single drop of dust or blood on either of them.

But where was he? Where was Asriel? Why wasn’t he with Chara and their mother? Where had he been all that time? How could her mother and sibling simply be standing there after time’s weight had crushed and eroded his shoulders for so long? Was that the reason he had grown vines? And what had happened that lead him here? Why did his sibling look so different and in such pain? How could her mother have ended up with such a horrible wound? Who could have done such a thing?

Something horrible had happened to Chara. Then, something horrible had happened to him. And something horrible was about to happen to his mother. And he knew who had done it. A flower. A flower had killed his beloved sibling, his best friend. A flower had also killed his mother countless times. And he had been there to witness it all. Why didn’t he ever lift a finger to help any of those people? He could have. He was powerful. He was brave and experienced. His virtue far surpassed that of a mere child. How could he have let that flower ruin so many lives?

As he came to the crushing realization, his bloodcurdling scream made Frisk and Toriel wince.

He was not Asriel. He was that flower.

Flowey’s spike-like claws firmly embedded themselves on his chest. Sap cascaded out of his eyes and away from his jittering head, its neck contorting in preposterous, painful-looking angles.

He focused on the pain his torso still felt from Toriel’s magic attack with all his might. He could have died there. This pain could have killed him, and this time, nothing could have brought him back then. But instead he had survived, and he could do something about it to those responsible. He clung to that pain and frustration, letting them be the fuel his vengeful rage needed.

In this world, it’s kill or be killed.

 _“Disappear.”_ He grunted. His blood and dust-tinted claws darted forward, careening the bullets he had summoned towards those he wanted to kill. His eyes detachedly stuck to the ground, coldly entrusting his sure-kill strike to claim its prey. Frisk jumped in front of the barrage, madly waving his stick. Faint tints of a magical orange glow emanated from Toriel’s palm. The pellets mercilessly made their way towards them.

Until a deluge of blue beams erupting from the ground disintegrated them in their tracks.

Flowey’s hands twitched, yet his defeated expression didn’t budge an inch.

 _“Now I get it. You saw it all through those cameras… then brought the queen here.”_ Collapsing on his knees, he sighed a sneer of smug indifference. Rejuvenated with predatorily intent, his crimson eyes surveyed the stout, bumbling outline that peered out of the doorframe. The lens of its glasses glistened against the meagre light the Barrier shed upon that side of the room.

Scurrying like a mouse, Alphys’ shaky paws waddled their way to Toriel’s side, her terrified eyes never taking their attention off the floral fiend.

 _“Y-your majesty! Are you okay? I-I-didn’t expect him to…”_ The pained Toriel tried to interrupt her, but the second the scientist’s gaze wandered away from Flowey, a spine tingling, battle cry-like cackle, darted forth off the caprine flower’s maw, who was dashing their way. Showing no determent but some sweat on her brow, Alphys boldly stepped in front of her wounded allies. Pushing her white sleeve aside, she revealed a metallic bracelet with several buttons within. She frantically hammered at them, array after array of beams of alternating blue and orange hues protruding off the ground and swimming their way towards the attacker.

Flowey’s roots firmly stuck to the ground to circumvent the first laser barrage, its blue sheen harmlessly passing through his body, as did the second. His serpentine tongue flopped in the air as he leaped through the orange tint of the third, then froze in place again to phase through yet another azure light pillar that followed. He danced and tiptoed his way through the intricate yet desperate attack pattern, Alphys gasping in horror as she found herself face to face with the fearful, merciless creature. She reached for her controller once more, but Flowey’s arm, twisted in a lance-like formation, stopped dangerously short of piercing her neck, stopping her fingers dead in their tracks.

He cackled, his renewed, cocky arrogance revitalizing his previously low spirits. He had seen that pattern a million times before. His confident chagrin spelled ‘You’re not even trying’ for Alphys to read.

 _“Well, howdy! The Royal failure, not hiding! Gosh, that’s a first. You were eavesdropping in our conversation all along, weren’t you? Have you come to stop me? Save your friends?”_ Alphys’s factions froze along both her soft, feeble palms, a mere formality to appease her assaulter. With the composed look of a statue about to be smashed to bits, she breathed in.

 _“Not exactly. I’ve come to bargain… Flowey?”_ Her detached, stoic expression abruptly curled into a goofy, unassuming grin. Her face regained its serious demeanour as the flowery menace raised an aggravated eyebrow.

 _“And what makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate at all, you failure? I want you to build something later and I want them to die right now. That’s why you’ll live and they won’t. Perhaps I’ll rip one of your legs or your tail off if I feel like it. This is how it’s going to be, unless… you think you or anyone here can stop me?”_ Not used to dealing with danger on her end of the camera, the scientist internally panicked before the crooked simper. Attempting to appear in control, she nudged her jaw in the opposite direction of the floral stinger, glancing sideways at its owner.

 _“Well, perhaps not me, or the human, or your m—… o-or the Queen… but I know someone who won’t be very happy you did her friends in…”_ Nowhere near as confident as Flowey’s, Alphys unravelled a nervous, bumbling smile. This would have completely ruined her bluff, were it not for the fact he knew who she was talking about. _“Are you confident you can take her out first try as weak as you are?”_ The dinosaur indulged herself an impudent eyebrow raise, as fidgety as her whole face was.

Neither of them moved and inch, and Flowey’s reason was as good as Alphys. The fish lady. She would hunt his head to the ends of the Earth, indeed. And now he had no determination, with all the resets she had taken him, a quick, flawless takedown felt like a very slim possibility for him. Was this it? Had he reached a dead end? Perhaps it really was time to sit down and negotiate…

No. Never. He had to go through with his scheme. Even if he had to trick her. Even if he had to make her let her guard down by appearing weak. He had to be stronger than the burning discomfort pouring from his chest. He’d find a way to get rid of it later. Just like he would find a way to get rid of everybody again. This was just a strategic retreat.

 _“What do you want from me? Out with it.”_  He spat. Far from relaxing, Flowey’s sword like tendril sprouted several hook-like spikes, a swing away from sectioning Alphys’ neck like a dry log. Her head’s tense position was starting to feel quite stiff and uncomfortable. Her breath through her nostrils grew more and more irregular with each passing instant.

 _“Well, erm….n-nothing really…I just want you to listen to me… I…you see… I watched… e-everything f-from my surveillance system and… I have formulated a theory about that thing on… on your chest…”_ Each word seemed to intensify the irregular pace of her respiration, which didn’t help the cohesion of her words. Flowey nervously nodded, his spike almost prodding Alphys’ neck at times. _“M…m-my theory is…”_   Flowey impatiently stomped his foot.

 _“Spit it out! Speak! Now!”_ He swiped off a trail of drool-like sap from his trembling jaw.

Not even daring to watch, Frisk and Toriel concealed their gazes in a sheltering embrace.

Surprisingly, Flowey offered no resistance when Alphys clutched his wrist away, then took a deep breath, all but shoving her snout in his face when she spoke.

 _“..I…I think that magic attack imbued you with what seems to be an artificial soul, Flowey!”_ She screeched.

Toriel’s horrified, guilt-ridden gasp was the first and only reaction to her words.

Alphys covered her face, convinced retaliation was coming in the form of physical pain. But after a while of nothing happening, she peered through her fingers, greeted with an unexpected sight. Flowey had considerably backed away from her. The limp vines that used to be his arms grazed the ground as his gasping jaws clattered. His trembling wandered from the ground to Alphys to Toriel, to the ceiling.

 _“You… you liar. You liar failure… You can’t know that yet…”_ He whimpered in such a meek tone of voice, even the word ‘failure’ sounded like a lament. Against all common sense, and a disapproving hand raise of Toriel, Alphys took a step towards him, caressing her stiff neck. She fixed her glasses and addressed him as collectedly as she could.

 _“W-well, I’m not completely sure but… based on what I’ve observed and contrasting what I gathered from your conversation with… with Asgore, th-that seems to be the most sensible explanation? Y-you’re sluggish and you hesitate much more than you did bef-“_ She stumbled backwards, narrowly evading several whip-like vines that were flailed at her. Flowey grunted through his fangs as if the very swing had taken a huge toll on him; then barged headfirst into Alphys, who had fallen on her butt.

 _“SHUT UP! I am so much stronger than this. You might be right for once on your life, and I might not be empty anymore but I still hate them. They all tried to kill me. You all mean nothing to me. And I’m still going to use you! THIS IS NOTHING!!”_ Alphys scurried back, dodging his foot stomps along his spasm-like rushes towards her.

Frisk and Toriel, who had managed to get on their knees, expectantly watched the pitiful scene in incredulous anguish. Their heads turned towards Alphys’ pointing finger.

 _“Then… then why haven’t you killed them already, if it’s just me you need? Y-you’re hesitating more and more as it dawns onto you… you…you can’t escape the weight of your actions any more! Hell, you could have easily maimed me like you said you w-”_ She yelped and ducked, dodging a fierce, thorn-covered punch by a hair. His eyes twitched on their sockets.

 _“No…no… shut up!.. After I….NO!”_ Desperately barked Flowey. He grunted in pain as he furiously began tearing and tossing away bark and leaves off his very own chest. As he dug deeper, glowing hints of his magically acquired soul faintly glimmering beneath. The royal scientist recovered her footing and darted towards him, clasping his wrists to stop him, wildly shaking her head.

To her amazement, he barely offered any resistance beyond some timid trembling.

 _“S-stop that! You will… you will really die if you do that!”_ They wrestled for the grip of his arms between sobs and grunts, Flowey’s chest slowly regenerating, as if it desperately wanted to cling to life, but had little energy to do so. She was still unsure if he was that weakened, not that strong to begin with, or simply hesitant.

Truth was he really did not want to die. Not again. Not anymore.

He pushed her onto the ground with his shoulder, the clack of her falling glasses echoing along the room as he made his way towards the human and the female boss monster. With a torturous huff, he extended his vines and wrangled them around their necks. They gasped in panic, the desperate grip of their mitts narrowly managing to held the binds back.

 _“Then… then if you know what’s good for them you will either remove this thing or give me some determination without the fish lady knowing! If you don’t…“_ A dry crackle interrupted him. He groaned in wide-eyed horror as he realized his tentacles were shattering just from the grip and weight of his presumably weak hostages. It also hurt. It hurt a lot more than he had anticipated. Alphys exhaled as she fastened her glasses around the bridge of her snout.

 _“S-sorry but…h-here’s my second bargaining chip for our deal…”_ A pitiful whimper-like cry bellowed out of Flowey as both his arms crumbled into grey dust, the inertia catapulting Frisk and Toriel flat on the ground, and him down on his back. He would have punched the ground if his arms were not taking so long to regenerate. Alphys leaned into his frustrated visage, her lips and eyelids quivering with a mixture of terror and pity. _“…I-If you don’t let me take a look at your body in my terms… you’re most likely going to die very soon anyways…”_ She tended her fidgeting paw at Flowey’s almost reconstructed hand, which he scouted with his crimson eyes. He also took a good look at her jittery and awkward, if sincere, toothy smile. _“C-come on! Y-you have nothing to lose… Forget about the past. Let’s make a new life for you!”_ She nervously chuckled.

Frisk and Toriel had managed to stand up and watched with a detached, expectant demeanour.

Flowey glanced aside and concealed his visage as he raised his hands towards Alphys’. To their surprise, in place of the frightening claw full of raptor-like nails, a soft fuzzy green paw had regenerated. The beaming scientist saw this as him reciprocating her gesture, then grabbed onto his hand and precariously helped him up.

But her elation didn’t last long, since as soon as the flower child stood on his feet, he furiously slapped her palm away, an offended chagrin on his face. More disappointed than surprised or hurt, Alphys began staring downwards, too ashamed to face his indignant gaze.

Before a single word came off his mouth, she already saw it coming. It had been gnawing at her since she got there.

 _“No! FORGET IT! I’m not letting YOU lay a finger on me! You’re the one who made me like this in the first place! Stay away! Don’t you dare touch me!”_ Every word of his tantrum had been punctuated by a stomp of his feet, from which the frightening crimson claws were gone as well. Alphys winced and closed her eyes as he raised his hand to strike her, then heard a loud, booming slap. 

As she opened her eyes, she was greeted with Toriel standing right before her, having knocked the plant monster on the ground with a chop of her own palm. Outraged, he rubbed his cheek and gritted his choppers.

 _“How… how dare you?! You stupid…”_ He stopped yapping and flinched before Toriel’s accusing finger.

 _“Stop it, child! Why is it so hard for you to accept this? You have been given a chance to start anew today! Why do you still cling to what you hate even now? Do not be an idiot!”_ The authority carried by her words was enhanced by the horrifying, dusty gash still gaping on her cheek. Flowey’s inability to think of a retort was written all over his defeated expression. Tugging at his own grass-like fur and shaking his head was all he found himself capable of.

 _“Shut up! Shut up! All of you! I can… I can… Just leave me alone!”_ He sobbed. His paws squeaked against the floor as he darted backwards, running towards the door Toriel had busted open. Frisk swiftly followed him in, his missing shoe failing to slow him down at all.

 _“Frisk, wait!”_ Cried Toriel, hand on her chest, gasping and trembling from the effort of merely standing around.

She stared wide-eyed at the fleeing flower creature. For some reason, the more broken he had become, the more difficult she had found it to tell him apart from a non-plant monster.

The differences between him and Asriel were starting to become really hard to pinpoint.

Used to Alphys’ presence, she didn’t even react when she felt the scaly scientist’s jittery palms holding her shoulder for support. The queen fell to her knees to lean on her retainer, appreciating the much-needed assistance. Both their eyes darted around as they waited for Toriel to regain her breath, quite unsure of what to say.

 _“G-guess I was wrong, Tori… he is not your kid anymore but… h-he is still a kid, even after all this time...ha…haha…”_ Blurted Alphys, idly rubbing her bracelet. Toriel pinched the bridge of her maw, a hesitant sigh darting out of her nostrils.

 _“It does not matter what he was. I… I almost killed him without a thought, Alphys. I thought less of him because of what we knew. I almost sacrificed him. How could I ever… how could I ever look at him in the eye again when I up and did that after all I put him through? What have I been doing all this time?...”_ Noticing Alphys had left her side during her monologue, her eyes glanced aside. An intermittent string of pitiful sobs abruptly called her attention, finding herself staring at her brainy companion’s back. As she turned around, Toriel noticed her fidgeting paws clung to a familiar rag. One that had belonged to a doll she herself handcrafted long ago.

The only leftover scrap of Asgore’s torn vessel she could find.

Toriel covered her eyes.

\--------------------

Someone who felt like Asriel dashed along the underground hallways of Asgore’s New home. He left trail of tears behind, the green hue of which periodically vanished into a clear, translucent outline. Corridor after corridor, his aching legs took him through every place his shocked, dizzy mind did not dare set eyes upon, or even think of. He just needed to get away from it all, leave them behind. He could not face so much at once.

But while hurriedly racing up a flight of stairs, it occurred to him his time might have become much more valuable now his determination was gone.

His steps brought down to a screeching halt. He pressed his temple with his palms and threw his voice out in frustration. Running away aimlessly was going to take him nowhere. He had to make a decision, for whatever time he had left, which depending on his decision, might not be very long.

In many ways, letting go of what he had done, what he had been, what he had learned felt like a losing proposition. Part of him wanted it all back quite desperately. Yet that other part of him that had been trembling and crying with regret screamed for him to toss it away as fat as he could. He simply could not make up his mind. He wanted the thrill back. But he was relieved it was no longer forced upon him. He never wanted to hurt anyone ever again. But he still knew he had to kill in order to not be killed. He wanted to use all his power to right the wrongs of life. But for some reason his mind kept going back to that insignificant gesture of the royal scientist. That one instant their hands had met. He still didn’t fully trust her words. But that warmth of her hand had compelled him to believe her promises, even if for a tiny instant. She was an abject failure, a disgrace of a scientist, a liar and an egotist but that warmth did not look like it had any room for lies. He knew, at least that time, she really had nothing but the best intentions for him.

Had that warmth been there for him all those years? Had that loser, the King, the Queen and the human idiot been offering it to him all this time?

As if this revelation raised the curtains and illuminated his whole dark world, he suddenly found himself stumbling down the foyer of the house he had been raised in. A mockery of his past. Even beyond the grave, that obsessed old fool’s sentimentality taunted him still. Caressing the cupboards and drawers endearingly, more thoughts about his father raced through his mind. Being greeted by him in the morning. Pestering him as he took care of his garden. Requesting books to read from him. Crossing fingers behind his back as he lied to him in behalf of his sibling.

These memories had never left him, but he felt as if he had rediscovered a new value to them.

As his eyes widened and tears began plunging anew, something else occurred to him. He would never, ever get to make more memories like those with him. The weight of his irreparable sin crawled on his back. After so many years of being unable to reach him and above consequences, the impulse to kill him and reap the reward had been too much to resist. But now, like his determination, something dear to him had been lost to his evil inspirations.

He was never coming back. He was gone forever, and he was responsible.

Or was he? Had that been really him? He could not reconcile those thoughts. He could never imagine doing something like that ever again. Never. The sharp, regretful pain on his chest, the hazy daze that clouded his sight and numbed his thoughts; prolonging it all was not worth anything hurting anyone could bring him. Killing others for fun and bringing more pain like that into this world… He would have never done that. He would have never taken consequences for granted. He even thought he would have never, ever gone with his sibling’s plan. He would have SAVED them instead.

But was that his decision to make, or the result of everything he had experienced? Again, had that really been him? No mere child could be that wise and resolute to stand up to his sibling’s destructive dilemmas. Was that thought his or someone else’s? Just who was he? What had he become? Had that changed when Asgore’s plan ended in his new body? Despite everything he had done, was it still really him?

His question was answered by the mirror his gaze met.

He backed away from his own reflection. His shoulders raised and lowered along his heavy breathing. He closed his eyes and held his own forearms, beginning to tremble. The very same guilt he had lifted off his shoulders moments ago squashed him like an insect. A venomous, parasitic, gleefully cruel insect.

It was not fair. This had been so easy to deal with just hours ago. Why did it all have to turn out like this? He reeled his caprine paw back, struggling to sprout quills out of it to crush the mirror with a punch, when the sound of laboured breathing called his attention elsewhere.

Frisk faintly panted, their little hands grasping the stair’s handrails for support.

They looked in shambles, torn sweater soaked with dust, blood and dirt, and missing a shoe. This sight alone was enough to make the discomposed grassy creature’s head spin with remorse. He had done all that. He shook his head and attempted to back away, a quick glimpse back met with the end of the hallway. As the human began making their way towards him, the monster-like plant shook his fists in an attempt to deter them.

 _“Why did you follow me here, you stupid lapdog? I hate you the most of all. This would have never happened if you had broken your neck when you fell through that hole! Disappear!”_ Frisk’s advance did not stop, a lifelessly exhausted expression on their dirt-smeared, numb face.

 _“…H-hey, what are you doing?! B…back off!!”_ Crowed the blooming existential crisis, retroceding into the wall as the human child raised their hands.

Frisk had lost count of how many times he had cried that day. They had been forced to fight. They had been forced to end several lives. And at the end of that harrowing experience, they had been granted a chance to not only honour the memory of those that had died on his dust-soaked hands, but to redeem the one he had even briefly considered irredeemable. SAVE him from himself.

But if they didn’t find a way to get through him, he was certainly going to die, feeling alone, abandoned and full of hate.

Following Toriel’s example, they forced a smile as they opened their arms offering an embrace. But as sincere as their sentiment was, they were not smiling from the bottom of their heart. The fear of failure and death still loomed above their heads. Their short lived smile curved into a child-like, dejected frown. They were just so tired.

Flowey’s pride and determination to not flippantly cast away what he had toiled to achieve during years got the best of him, thorns sprouting all over his leafy fake clothes. He didn’t want them to touch him. Didn’t need their charity. He was better than all of them. Despite his heart racing, yearning to regain what he had lost, despite his body closer than it had ever been to an irreversible demise from which only acceptance could help him out, he didn’t need them.

 _“Are you deaf or just THAT much of an idiot? DON’T TOUCH ME! I’ll…I’ll kill you! I’ll… I’ll… ki…I’ll hurt… I’ll hurt… you and everyone… again…”_ Flowey’s sentence stumbled into a hesitant mutter, dying down in his dry throat as Frisk clutched their wrists. There was that tepid sensation again, warmer than ever. His gaze dejectedly slumped downwards, realizing blood had begun flowing down Frisk’s wrists, their soft flesh pierced by the spines Asriel had summoned. They trembled in his grasp.

Despite the pain, Frisk didn’t want to let go.

Flowey averted his eyes from Frisk’s quivering lips and cheeks, retracting his spines with some trembling of his own. Even inflicting mild pain like that was becoming too much to handle.

 _“S-s-stop making that sappy face! This is no laughing matter! I.. I will… you will REALLY hurt yourself…”_ His remaining thorns disappeared back onto his skin on their own as Frisk let go of his hands, lunging towards him and wrapping their arms around his shoulders.

The human child’s sobbing and hiccupping palpitated through his neck.

Despite the guilt, Flowey didn’t want to let go.

 _“I can’t understand… I just… I just can’t understand… how can you want to even touch me after all the horrible things I did?”_ Frisk increasingly became a sadder, louder sobbing wreck as their embrace intensified, Asriel’s arms forced to wrap themselves around the human’s back. A fleeting thought managed to rear its face amidst his conflicted mind, torn between the most painful of sorrows and the warmest of embraces: if his thorns had been out, Frisk would have hurt themselves by pressing so hard against him. But avoiding it had been as simple as retrieving them. His power could hurt no one worth preserving if he didn’t recklessly throw it around.

Their inconsolable bawling began resonating in unison across the deserted home.

 _“There’s no excuse for what I did but I was just… I was just so alone and afraid, Frisk… I’m… I’m sorry… I’m sorry …”_ They fell to their knees, their blemished, traumatized, young minds and bodies resting easy, soothed by each other’s tepid presence. Even if the worst had passed for both of them, their tears just didn’t stop coming.

 _“Thank you… ”_ Cooed Frisk’s best friend.

Somebody had finally come.


	3. A botanist's log

**DAY 1**

Thank god, the Flower child lived… All he needed to recover were some nutrients. I ran some tests on his body, revealing several new stats not present on any other monster, all of them dangerously low... but they all replenished once I injected some “plant food” Asgore kept around. His integrity and strength came back, and his pain and discomfort simply vanished. I guess he was simply overexhausted and famished after all that had happened. Frisk and Toriel were so glad… they didn’t leave my lab’s lobby until they personally saw him with their own eyes.

Even he thanked me through his disgust.

First thing I told him was his determination was absolutely gone, and to please not throw his life away and take care of others… no more resets, no more experimenting… from now on, he would see his life through the end like any other monster. And so, he needed to behave like one.

I expected him to have a hard time digesting this but… for some reason he took it very well. I’d say he even was relieved…

But I won’t dwell on that. I’m just… so glad everything turned okay this time… if I had failed him again I would have never been able to live with myself. I don’t care what he did. He didn’t deserve what he went through, and it’s not fair to hold him accountable now. Poor thing wouldn’t stop asking where Frisk was, even in his dreams, and now they won’t leave each other’s side… Brings a tear to my eye to see them being such good friends now.

We have some tests to perform tomorrow, but I’ll let them rest for today. They deserve it more than any of us…

**DAY 2**

Interesting! The Flower child is unlike any monster I’ve ever seen. And it’s not like I haven’t researched plant monsters before. Heck, he’s got nothing in common with the amalgamates or even humans either, he really is his own monster, with its own parameters. There’s this very interesting stat of his that seems to deplete the more he uses his abilities… and steadily replenishes with rest or food. I’ve developed the theory low levels of this stat were causing him to whittle like that… and while not as essential to his survival as HP, I advised the little guy to please be mindful of them.

I’ve dubbed it MP: that’s short for Mettle Points.

What an edifying experience analysing his physiology has been. He’s kept most of the abilities and properties he had as a flower, except bound together just like a mammal monster. He can feed from soil, drink by being watered and he’s drawn to Asgore’s garden supplies… but he seems to be able to digest regular food, even looking as if he was really enjoying the glamburger Frisk gave him.

He has some strange habits too… by isolating him, I observed his roots extended away from his hooves (?) and pressed downwards, as if trying to absorb nutrients from the ground. His face and clothes catch me off guard sometimes… what a capable shapeshifter. But his potentially unstable body seems to resemble… well, Toriel and Asgore more the closest he is to others he trusts. Frisk and Papyrus get the strongest reaction out of him so far. Save for some details like his red eyes and grassy texture, when he’s around them, he really is the spitting image of a young boss monster. Walks without scuttling or slithering. Breathes, blinks, gets tired and yawns… unlike a plant would.

Is this the power of the SOUL? Could the answer to shatter that barrier and reconcile human and monsterkind reside within it?

…Still, even if I made sure to have his consent for every experiment, this will have to be enough for today. I am very thankful for his cooperation, but I can tell he hates my tests and still doesn’t fully trust me… and I don’t want to stress him any more than needed now that this hell is over for him. Imagine if… he were to end up like all those monsters I got my hands on… Imagine if I were to ruin it all yet again…

No. That’s not going to happen. This is different. I won’t repeat my mistakes. I… no, WE can do this. We can SAVE monsterkind. With my friends right behind me, I’ve got trustworthy people to watch over me… to keep me honest. Even Mettaton called the other day and asked if I was doing fine... We’ll take as much as time as we need, and we will see this through.

Watch me, Asgore, I won’t screw this one up. We’re going to make this right and for once, my research will make everybody happy. For you… for everybody.

**DAY 4**

Tori is back on the throne. And surprisingly, Undyne is right behind her. With what she told me about humans I was convinced heads would roll once the differences in their policies came to… but surprisingly, they both agreed to my plan to use Frisk as an ambassador once we figure out how to break the barrier. She’s even told to “Wait until she makes sure the royal guard is in good hands”… whatever could that mean?

But I digress. It is amazing what one human with good intentions could accomplish... down to the living miracle the Flower child is.

Speaking of him, he’s doing great. Him and Frisk are living with me for the time being. It’s unfortunate he just seems… uneasy around Toriel. He’s trying to hide from her. I can tell. Tori… doesn’t seem to have an easy time around him either. She seems to avoid even looking at him when he’s around.

I honestly can’t blame either of them…

**DAY 6**

Papyrus’ brother barged into my lab today. That dead serious look in his face… he looked like a completely different person. He asked about “the flower he had been looking for”. I had a horrible feeling about that, for some reason. The Flower child and Frisk were reading on my workshop and I almost feared for them in a way I can’t explain... I assured Sans there was nothing to fear. Not only because the Flower child already apologized to Papyrus, but because he wasn’t even the one he was looking for anymore. However, he insisted on seeing him, and eventually, they met in the hallway…

Oh my god, those stares… I thought they were going to kill each other. Where was that anger… and that fear in both their eyes coming from? Had they met before? What a bad time for everybody that silence was. But all of a sudden, Sans shook his head, apologized to the Flower Child, gave me some notes, and told me:

“if you can make these out, feel free to use them in your research. good luck.”

And left just like he arrived. When I asked Papyrus about that, he told to pay it no mind, just his “good for nothing brother playing a prank on me”, but… for a moment, Sans didn’t look like he was joking. He almost look like he had something very important to do… what’s with that?

Oh well… I’ll have to work in his notes. Maybe then I’ll understand. I can’t read any of these strange symbols though… wonder if it’s a cipher?

**DAY 9**

I’m through making tests to the Flower Kid. He’s in perfect condition. Lasted twice as much as the amalgamates did without any traces of melting, stats looks better and more stable by the day, and he even gets in petty arguments with Frisk about who should play each character in their games! Remarkably speedy recovery, both physical and mental… not to mention, his soul has the same readings of a boss monster’s. Not a single trace of determination in it. With how much of it went through his body, that’s a miracle, all right. And honestly, I’m glad. One less thing to worry about.

No more determination. I’ve had enough of that stuff. Nothing good has come out of it.

For now, I’ll focus on researching those cracks in the Wall… Even if righting every wrong I’ve ever made is so difficult, after all the misery I’ve brought into this world. I try to answer all the Amalgamate’s families questions about them the best I can, but sometimes it is so hard to bear… I can do nothing but hope my choking and tears stop while the phone tones last. Sometimes I feel the same looking at the Flower Child… the fact he’s even here is my fault… is that a good or a bad thing?

Still, when I see him waiting for Frisk and Papyrus to arrive with that bored but hopeful look… When they get together, no matter how bratty he acts, you can see he’s having a great time running around with them… He’s got that the twinkle in his eyes. We don’t talk much, but he can’t hide that fact from me.

I’m going to make sure this kid lives the happiest life he possibly could, even if it kills me.

**DAY 10**

I was analysing some samples from the Wall Room in the lab today and… wouldn’t you know it? The Flower Child came in and said he wanted to help out! I knew since Frisk was visiting Tori today he was on his own… so I didn’t object to it. Instead, I asked if he had ever used a Bunsen burner. He recited a very complete definition of its uses and properties worthy of any encyclopaedia, but he barely knew how to hold it. I demonstrated by heating some debris from the wall and… god, the look on his face. Was that excitement? He asked so many questions and tried so many things, we eventually got carried away and I completely forgot about the experiments I was supposed to be performing. Whoops. I’m way behind schedule now…

After we were done, however, he was scratching himself all over, complaining about his itchy… skin? A thin layer of his grassy fur had wilted again… his torso looked like bark. Oh dear.

Luckily, once I covered him with my labcoat and got him out of the lab, he peeled it off, the itching was gone, and all his stats stable. Turns out, some of the vapour secreted by the samples we were dissolving were just too irritant for his sensitive plant-like anatomy. Thank goodness it was nothing. I’ll have to give him some better equipment if he wants to have another chemistry lesson, hehe…

It’s strange. He seems to have participated in this world so much he’s tired of it, yet for some reason, there’s some truly basic stuff he seems to have trouble grasping, and so much he’s still curious about. He knows what everything is, but has interacted with so little of it… Is that him showing his age or has there been something wrong with the way he was living?

So many years out there but such a limited outlook… I’m no therapist but we DEFINITELY have to talk about this. Does he trust me enough?

**DAY 11**

After he asked so many times about those “Ugly colourful characters on these tapes”, I decided to show the Flower Child some anime! It was Undyne’s night off, so all four of us got together to watch something. And oh gosh… at first he pulled “Kaiba” out. Oh man. He must have thought it looked cute. It’s not like it’s a bad anime, or anything but…

Nope. Not this one. Not him. Not yet. I can’t do this to his brain.

I suggested GaoGaiGar instead, and with Frisk and Undyne’s vote, we settled for it. And oh boy, did the Flower Child complain about it. “That’s so dumb.” “That doesn’t make sense.” “Why do they yell so much?” “What is even going on?” he wouldn’t stop pouting. I told him we could change it to something else but he was like “Let’s finish this episode. I want to see how dumb this gets”.

For five of them straight.

Of course, all hell broke loose when he and Undyne had a disagreement over the GGG’s coolest attack. He was so mad… And Undyne was yelling so loud, I thought her only eye was going to pop off… haha, I even had to stop Frisk from jumping off the window… It was such an awkward time, but I can’t help but laugh at it now, after how Undyne kept bringing it up to tease him later… and it worked so well. He is too easy to tease, guess I’ve got that in common with him.

But as mad as he gets, that anger is nowhere near the evil intent I witnessed that day… just a tantrum. And with each passing day, he seems less and less likely to go back to it. He’s not the thing that killed Asgore… he’s just… a monster kid that lives with me. Little grumpy, little awkward but… just a kid.

I’m so happy…

**DAY 12**

I’m so weak. So weak. So weak. Couldn’t answer the phone today. I just couldn’t.

I’m a failure. Failure. Failure. I deserve to suffer. They’ve suffered because of my ego. I’m garbage.

I’m sorry Snowy. I’m sorry everybody. I should have never tampered with life.

**DAY 15**

No one in the Underworld knows who the Flower Child is but a few of us… Everybody thinks the abomination who killed Asgore was simply destroyed by the human, and that’s one of the reasons they were so quick to accept Frisk. Not even Papyrus and Undyne are aware of where he came from… yet come to think of it, they won’t even question it. They just accepted him with open arms… They’re such good souls. I can’t thank them enough for making this so much easier for us…

But sometimes I wonder. Does he feel guilt when the New Home citizens bring Asgore up? The few people who have seen him around have inquired on his past and relation to the queen. How long until someone finds out? Should he be Prince? Is it fair to assume he’s not the same person Flowey was? His personality and memories remain but… let’s just say the lack of a soul REALLY makes a difference. No matter who he is, he is someone worth preserving, damn it.

We really should have a talk about this, now that he seems to be a little more relaxed around me. Perhaps, one day we can reveal just who he was and what he did to the public… but I’ll have to wait till he’s ready. Until the Underworld is ready.

**DAY 17**

Frisk and him are like two peas in a pod. He’s always arguing with Papyrus about how devious their puzzles should be. That one time he had to go to Undyne’s cause I was busy, I saw them play the piano together through the window. He’s even started calling me by my name instead of “Scientist” or heaven forbid, “Failure”… He’s getting along with all of us so well…

Yet he still evades my questions and comes up with excuses when I ask about visiting Toriel…

Tori… we’ve gone over Asgore so many times…. Let’s just stop blaming them both… Let’s move on.

This is so frustrating. We can’t make him whole if he doesn’t leave his past behind. And same goes for her. She won’t stop making excuses. I know she’s busy, but Undyne’s told me she’s got plenty of free time… Come on, work with me, you two. I need you.

**DAY 20**

He helped me. He helped me today. He came into my room and hugged me. Must have noticed the phone, or my sobbing. Told me it was okay. Told me I should ask Frisk or Undyne for help, that they’re better with people than we are.

He’s right. We seem to have that in common… but even after all I did to him, he still has it in him to console me. If this is not the proof the soul inside him is the real deal… I don’t know what is.

I’ve done lots of things I regret, but now there’s nothing I can do but face them straight. Let’s be strong. We have to. If I let my mistakes pile up again we’ll end up with another disaster… this just won’t do. I’ll make some time and visit every family, answer all their questions in person, no matter how hard it is. It has to be done…

**DAY 23**

We saw Toriel in the palace garden today… crying, just like Undyne said she often did in front of that tree… Asgore’s tree. That was the last straw. Frisk and I agreed we had to do something. We escorted Tori to the ruins, as she needed to retrieve her belongings and move them to the castle… and once we took her to her favourite flower patch, she saw him.

The Flower Child was waiting for her right there, in the flowerbed.

With how hard it had been to convince him, we expected the worst. We feared she might run away. We feared either might say something that’ll hurt the other. If we were lucky, we thought they would simply break down in tears… Had we been too thoughtless? Were they ready? This could get really ugly…

But they just hugged under the sunlight.

We left them together, tending to the wilting tree… I know they will find a way to help it blossom again.

**DAY 27**

We’ve come so far. I can’t believe what a difference less than a month can do. The Flower Child has made so much progress. I’m so proud of him…. And I guess I have reason to be proud of myself too…

So, it’s been decided. Since he’s so well read already, he won’t go to school with Frisk, rather help me with my research, like he wanted. He says he wants to go to the surface quite badly… and frankly, I’m very glad for him. After being trapped in the Underworld for so long, his thirst for knowledge drove him to those horrible lengths. Even with a soul, this would have made a dent on anyone’s mind… and knowing he’ll soon have a brand new direction to focus his curiosity towards is such a huge relief.

But it’s unfair to doubt him like that. We promised him a second chance at life and that’s what he’ll get.

And surprise, surprise… Undyne will be joining me in the lab too! She’s temporarily quitting her job as head of the Royal Guard to “Help me get us out of here!”. Oh dear. I am not looking forward to their bickering, haha… but I’m sure we’ll have a blast together.

If anything, I’d say once he gets going and learns to properly apply all his theory, he’s going to be a much better researcher and engineer than me… That’s what he deserves in life.

I hope I’m a good teacher to him…

**DAY 30**

I have to be honest… today looks like a nice day!

I picked Frisk and the Flower Child from Toriel’s today and… she seemed just like what Asgore had told me she was like. Radiant. Kind. Wise. She saw the children off and even packed them a lunch… “Be good, won’t you?” She said. Aww, Tori…

And Mettaton’s phone clothing app came in handy for once… the Flowers Child’s custom insulating raincoat arrived! Yellow, just like he asked. I hope with this and some glasses, he’ll be able to help me around the lab. He looked so full of himself, posing in front of the mirror in it! Should have taken some pictures. However, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to test it, because today we have some further samples to collect and some things to try in the barrier. Our first day as official lab partners, and it’s a field experiment. Better hope we make quick progress… that stupid wall can’t disappear soon enough.

You know, we had a silly conversation today… the Flower Child told me I “can’t keep calling him that forever”. That he needs a new name. And he had a few suggestions…

He… he really stinks at naming stuff.

But I digress. He needs to stand proud if he wants to become what he wants from his new life. And we’ll all be all the way with him, so he can make the most of this chance at life. Forget what he used to be, and accept himself as he is now. And I guess… I need to accept myself as I am now, too…

Thanks, everybody : )


End file.
